Russ' Boats
by WilfredBramble
Summary: Nick is a crab fisherman on the Bering Sea.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here is my entry for BOATS, which I am doing in two parts. I decided to mash up New Girl and Deadliest Catch? Why you may ask? Because Boats, that's why. And I thought it was easy to imagine Nick as a crab fisherman.**

Double-checking his tote bag for all of his essentials, Nick was finally finishing his prep for the next crab season. Rubbing his scruffy beginnings of a beard, he looked through his bathroom to make certain he didn't miss anything. About the only thing he hadn't packed was his razor, and everyone knew it was bad luck to shave on a boat. Finally satisfied with his collection of clothes and items, he closed up the bag. The reality was the only thing anyone ever wanted on a crab boat was warm clothes that were also dry, which was often a luxury nobody could afford. With his final chore done before the next morning's departure, Nick set out to finish his pre-season routine. It was time to get a few rounds in at Clyde's.

The smell of the salty sea air filled Nick's nostrils as he made the short walk to the bar. There were plenty of things to dislike about this sleepy Alaskan fishing town, the bitter cold usually topping the list, but the sweet smell of the sea wasn't one of them. As he approached the not-quite decrepit building that housed Clyde's, he allowed a small smile to come across his lips. Inside was another thing that he didn't hate about this place. A face that always made his days brighter, a voice that created the most infectious laugh, and a body that haunted him in his sleep waited behind the rusty front door.

As he opened the door and his eyes adjusted to the poorly lit bar, he spotted the beautiful woman behind the bar almost immediately. Walking over to an open barstool, Jess smiled at him. Nick gave her a gesture and she grabbed him his usual order, a neat whiskey and a beer. Placing the drinks in front of him, she enthusiastically greeted him.

"Hey Nick! Ready for another season! Sure is a lot of excitement around here."

"I'm about as ready as I can be to go out into that crap again," he replied far less excitedly. Nick never looked forward to any trip out, but it was his job now. It had been so for a few years, ever since he moved to Dutch Harbor hoping to make some quick bucks. He had no other real prospects to speak of. Certainly there were no better offers rolling in. He always wished he was one of those put-together guys, the kind of guys worthy of a woman like Jess. Instead, he was a common fisherman, going out to make a living on a boat catching crab.

Jess walked away to tend to the next customer and Nick's spirits feel just a bit. Theirs was an awkward friendship sometimes. He never knew what curve ball she was going to throw at him next. Frankly she annoyed him when he first met her, but those feelings quickly gave way to a deeper connection. Nobody represented the term "fish out of water" quite like Jess did tending bar at Clyde's. Somebody somewhere once told Nick that Clyde's had been voted one of the toughest bars in America by some stupid website that rates such things. Nick couldn't care less about online polls, quizzes, or other nonsense. He didn't care which Disney villain he was most like, and he didn't need a coffee shop blogger to tell him that Clyde's was a rough place. It all added to the enigma that was Jess. Her entire personality was like a freakin' ray of sunshine that just didn't belong.

Nick knew her story well. Hell, he had heard all about it multiple times. She was a teacher in a past life, probably a damn good one too. Her boyfriend Russell was a majority owner of the fleet and the processing plant, and the operation was underperforming, so Russell moved up to Dutch Harbor to personally oversee the turnaround. Jess had moved with him but she wasn't able to find any teaching jobs, so she started working at Clyde's. She claimed to like it, always meeting new and interesting people, but Nick could tell there was always a slight sadness in her bright blue eyes when she would talk about her past career.

He also knew why she could get away with working here without getting hassled on a daily basis. Word would always spread quickly to the new guys that you didn't hit on the dark-haired blue-eyed gal at the one bar in town. She was the "boss man's" girl, Russ' girl. Chances were, you were working on a boat owned by Russ. So Jess was always treated with respect. The same couldn't be said about Cece.

As the second bartender walked by with a fresh bottle of gin, Cece gave a Nick a polite hello. Nick thought that Cece liked him well enough, even though she was always giving him the eye when he would have long chats with Jess. Being one of the few women in town, and the only bartender that didn't date the boss, she was the recipient of plenty of lewd advances. Anyone who had been around knew that those advances would always end poorly, but it didn't seem to stop the entertainment that would ensue. Nick's thoughts were interrupted by a younger inebriated man that he didn't recognize a few seats down from him. It seemed Nick was going to witness one of those advances now.

"C'mon sugar, just let me take you to the café."

"No thanks, I'm good," Cece barely paid the man attention as she walked away.

"I bet you are good," the man turned to Nick, ignoring the fact that he didn't feel like being drawn into his feeble attempt at conversation. "I mean, how can she not be? Have you seen those tits and that ass?"

Not really trying to disguise his disgust Nick took a drink of beer and answered the man. "Yes, she does indeed have breasts…"

"I'd bet she tear a man apart."

You really have no idea, Nick thought to himself.

Cece had walked by again and placed another bottle back on the top shelf while using a step stool. The young drunk to this opportunity to grab a handful of Cece's behind. In that instant, something in Nick's head snapped. Leaving no time to think, he slammed the drunk idiot's head to the bar and gave him a few punches to the gut before settling with pinning his elbow on the man's neck and scolding him.

"Is that how you treat women where you come from?! How about I found your mom and just go around grabbing her ass, think she would like that? How about you show some god-damn respect, huh? Apologize to the woman!"

The younger man struggled to get out any words at first, mostly from the shock of being manhandled. After realizing he wasn't going to break free from Nick's grasp, he responded to Nick's command.

"Alright, I'm sorry."

"Look her in the eye and say you are sorry!" It was taking all of Nick's restraint to not drag this punk out of the bar and teach him some manners.

"I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!"

At his last apology Nick threw the man back from the bar, who stumbled back until he regained his balance against a table. Still in a state of shock, he walked off back to a distant booth, shooting scared looks over his shoulder back to the bar.

"Fucking Greenhorn…" Nick muttered under his breath. He sat back down at his stool, and finally noticed the glaring eyes of Cece.

"You wait here," she told Nick sternly. Cece walked off towards the man who had just groped her, and started to give him an earful. The kid had a sullen look on his face. It was mixed with across of fear and respect. After her dressing down, Cece returned to Nick.

"Cece, if you need me to get out of here, I get it."

"Shut up Nick," Cece commanded, and Nick obliged. "I appreciate the sentiment in your actions, but you don't need to fight a punk for me. I'm a grown ass woman and I can take care of myself." Cece eyed the concerned look from Jess and Cece had to stop a small smile. "Just don't beat up anymore of our customers, and you can stick around."

As Cece walked off, Nick knew she was right. She was a tough woman. She didn't need to be babysat. Turning his attention to Jess, Nick felt a surprising guilt creep in. She appeared to be somewhat stunned by his outburst

"Jess, I'm sorry about that…thing with that guy. I just get tired of all the assholes around here."

"I'm sorry if you feel the need to apologize to me, I was just shocked to see a little chivalry. That's all." She grabbed a fresh beer for Nick and made certain he made eye contact with her. "Don't worry, you're good."

Nick went to work on his beer, the feeling of regret leaving at the site of Jess' smile and her assurance that he did the right thing. Jess was thankful that one of her few male friends stood up for her best friend, even though Cece didn't really need the help.

A few hours later and the bar had started to clear a little. Most of the patrons were shoving off tomorrow morning and were trying to avoid starting their trip on the Bering Sea with a hangover. For Nick Miller, the first day hangover was just another tradition. So he continued to drink, thankful that his earlier nemesis was one of the crowd that had already called it a night. With fewer customers, Jess always took the opportunity to have a conversation with Nick. Currently, Jess was confronting Nick on how he didn't really fit the mold of the typical crab fisherman.

"Nick, all I am saying is it is unusual for a decent guy with a college education to be on a crab boat."

"So sue me for being a well-rounded individual," Nick joked.

"It just surprises me. Clearly you are an intelligent guy. I know you originally came up here to pay for your mom's medical expenses, but you said they gave her the all clear, right?"

Nick nodded in agreement as he remembered back when he made the decision to come to Dutch Harbor. He knew crabbers made a lot of money, and when Bonnie was diagnosed with cancer he needed some way to help support her, something that being a bartender had no chance of doing. So he made the move, and started sending money back home. It had been almost a year since she had any expenses, yet he was still here. Jess reached for his arm and the touch made him look directly at her.

"It was honorable of you to do that for your family, but I just feel like you could now do something…greater. Call me crazy. Have you ever thought about doing something else?"

Nick remembered having this conversation with her before. It almost always ended with him frustrated and confused with himself. "I don't know. I'm making some decent money, far better than in my last job. I figured I would do this for a while longer, than move someplace else when I had a plan. Someplace warmer, that's for sure."

Jess let out a hearty laugh. "Well I hear Tahiti is nice this time a year, or pretty much all year."

Nick thought briefly about turning the tables on Jess. He knew damn well that she was destined for something greater than being a bartender in a sleepy port town, but he had also had that conversation before. Instead he opted for settling up his tab, and getting some shut eye. Tomorrow and another crab season would be here soon enough.

…

Slinging the pot into the rack, Nick and Coach unloaded the crab onto the sorting table, all while turning his head from another wave crashing over the port side of Ferguson's Forty. Nick never was fully onboard with the name of the boat, but it wasn't his boat to name. He learned quickly that you didn't make fun of Ferguson's Forty around Captain Bishop. It never ended well. For the most part, Nick had a good relationship with Bish. Guys liked crapping with Bish because he did a solid job of finding the crab, and then almost as importantly, staying on top of 'em. Nothing helped crew morale like pulling up pot after pot of quality crab. It meant everybody got to go home sooner with a max payday.

The crew was in the middle of their stretch run to fill the holding tanks. Nick got along with most of the guys. There was Coach who was always quick to crack a joke, no matter how little sleep he was running on. Schmidt was the guy who packed more hygiene products than any fisherman Nick knew, but he was still a valued member. He always acted like he was above dirty work, but he had an attitude that he was "going to crush it anyway". Nick felt like he would have been good friends Coach, Schmidt, and even Captain Bish in another life. He did not have those feelings about the last crew member, an old creeper named Remy. Nick could never figure out how Remy made his way to Ferguson's Forty, but he seemed to always be on top of his job. It was his only redeeming quality.

As Schmidt, Coach, and Nick sorted the last of the crab, Remy was pulling in the next pot at the rail. This run had everyone on for over 24 hours, and nerves were starting to get frayed. Nick was tired, cold, and hungry. In the brief moments of downtime, he would look at the ocean and notice how the water was never quite as blue as his favorite bartender's eyes. These brief moments gave him enough of a mental rest to keep going. As the pot was pulled out of the water, Nick came back from his mental break ready to do some more sorting.

"Last pot of the string guys, pack it away then get inside, get warm, and get some rest. You got about eight hours before the next run," Captian Bish's voice cracked over the loudspeaker. The crew responded with whoops and hollers of joy. With the final crab sorted and the pot secured on deck, the crew headed inside to get some much needed rest. Slipping off his all-weather gear, Nick found some dry sweats in his bag and curled up into his bunk. Exhaustion had long settled in. Soon he drifted off to sleep, but not before one more thought of a smile from Jessica Day.

…

Rousing from his sleep, Nick felt the pangs of hunger in his gut. Walking into the commons area, he found nobody else was awake yet. It was hard to blame them. Nick figured he got about six hours sleep in, which felt like a coma in this lifestyle. Assuming Bish hadn't ate recently, Nick whipped up a little breakfast for the both of them, though he didn't make any eggs for the Captain. Bish never seemed to eat the eggs when Nick made them. Grabbing the two plates, Nick made his way up to the wheelhouse where he found Bish in the Captain's chair.

"I figured you were hungry."

"I'm starving man, thanks." Bish grabbed the plate of hash browns, sausage, and toast and wolfed it down in a matter of minutes.

"Do you need to get some rest? You've been up for at least thirty now. I could take a wheel watch," Nick offered.

"I'll be good through the next string. After that you can take over."

Nick and the Captain sat in a comfortable silence. Normally on the high seas, most men ran out of things to talk about early in the trip, so you sat there saying nothing. With the morning sun making its break, Nick saw another crab boat off to the starboard side. Bish noticed it too, but it wasn't unusual to spot another boat, especially if you were consistently on top of the crab like the Ferguson's Forty was. It wasn't until the other boat got closer that Nick saw a man climbing the pots, most likely securing them together.

"Yo Cap, you see that guy climbing that stack over there?"

"Yeah Nick, I see him." The tone in Bish's voice spoke to an underlying concern both of the men shared. The man was in such a position that one big wave would endanger him of being knocked off into the icy sea. "Grab those binocs over there and keep an eye on him, would ya?"

Following the captain's orders, Nick grabbed the optics and kept watch on the fisherman. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, so much that Nick thought maybe he had too much concern for the stranger. Shortly after that thought, Nick saw the other boat dip below the crest of a wave. When the boat came back into view, the man that was on the stack was gone.

"Cap, he ain't there. He's gone. HE'S GONE!"

"SHIT! Get in a suit, and get down by the rail!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks again for reading. Please enjoy the conclusion to my story. BOATS!**

Nick quickly ran down the stairs to the crew quarters, hardly noticing the audible boat-wide alarm Bish had sounded. When Nick got to his quarters, the alarm had awakened his fellow crew members.

"What the hell is going on?" Schmidt asked, his voice laced with fear and concern, yet still groggy from sleep. Hearing an alarm out on the Bering Sea was enough to scare the bravest man.

"Man overboard, from another boat. We are going to swing by and see if we can help out!"

With the rest of the crew finally stirring and becoming aware of the situation, Nick threw on his survival suit. He would thank Bish later for making certain all crew members could get their suits on inside of thirty seconds. With Nick in the suit, the crew waited by the rail. Winston called out the man's position over the loudspeaker, and Remy spotted the man as Bish navigated the boat closer to him. Throwing out a line, he seemed to grab it almost immediately. The four men pulled on the rope, but the man couldn't maintain his grip, most likely losing control of his extremities from the frigid waters. As the boat got closer to him still, Nick could see the fear in his eyes. The face of this unknown fisherman wore a pleading look, one that asked whoever would listen to not let him die today.

Taking no time to think, Nick ordered the other men to keep holding onto the rope. Nick lassoed the slack around one of his arms and jumped into the icy cold sea. Immediately he could feel the freezing water through his durable survival suit. No wonder this guy was so scared. Swimming out to the man, he wrapped one arm around his torso, and hollered back to the boat for the guys to reel them in. While the crew quickly brought them back to the boat, Nick pleaded with the man to hang on, literally and figuratively. Once back on the boat, Schmidt, Coach, and Remy took the crabber into the crew quarters to stave off his hypothermia. Nick followed them inside, taking off his survival suit, concerned for his own body temperature.

By the time Nick had his suit off and returned to the commons area, the man was stripped down to his boxers and wrapped in blankets. Bish was trying to talk to him and make certain he didn't go into shock from the near-death experience. Nick had never taken a dip in the drink, but every fisherman knew you had mere minutes to get out of it to not die from hypothermia.

"Yo man, what's your name?" Bish inquired.

"Pa-pa-pa…Paul…Genslinger," he timidly said, his body shaking. The fear in his eyes had dissipated, if only slightly. "I was just tying down the pots, had to go over the side for a bit. I've done it countless times before. I thought I didn't need a tether…"

As Paul's voice trailed off, his face contorted and he started to cry. Drying off his hair, Nick was certain he had never seen someone look so ugly when they were crying in his entire life.

"I don't know what would have happened if you guys weren't there, you guys saved me, you saved my life," Paul spoke out through the sobs.

"It's all right man, we got you, we got you," Bish said, trying to comfort Paul.

Nick walked out of the commons area and up the stairs to the wheelhouse. Picking up the mic on the radio, he broadcasted to all channels that Paul had been picked up by Ferguson's Forty and he would be okay. Nick heard the well wishes and celebrations from other boats over the CB as he hung the mic back on the radio. The fleet was always glad to know when someone wasn't dead.

Plopping into Bish's chair, Nick tried his best not to freak out. He decided it would be best if he just stared at the ocean, and not concentrate on Paul's words.

Countless times.

The simple statement bothered Nick, because he knew he had been in a similar position hundreds of times himself. It only took one time of being careless and Mother Nature would let you know who was in charge. Most of the time there wasn't another boat to come by and pick you out of the water either. Nick shook his head, trying not to concentrate on how many times he may have cheated death.

…

After the excitement of the rescue died down, the crew got back to work knowing that the next string was going to be starting soon. The guys got into their usual rhythm and started filling the boat with crab again. Eventually, Paul emerged from the crew quarters wearing some spare gear the ship had, and setup shop at the bait station. He told the guys it was the least he could do for them, which got no argument from any crewmember. Everyone hated chopping up herring to bait the pots. It was easily the worst job on the boat, usually reserved for greenhorns. Nick noticed that Paul like to whistle and sing while he was gutting the fish, which seemed quite unusual. After a while it moved from unusual to downright annoying.

"I'm beginning to think he was thrown off, not knocked off his old boat," Nick muttered to Coach.

Coach let out a small chuckle. "Cut him slack man. He's playing with house money right now. Besides, with him batin' we don't have to listen to Schmidt bitch about the smell of fish for the rest of the trip."

Small victories, Nick thought to himself.

...

Finishing his knot, Nick made certain the pot was secured on the deck. Everyone had finished this trip with far caution than normal. Paul himself hadn't ventured to either rail of the boat, keeping base around the bait station. Nobody could really blame him. In fact, most were surprised at how upbeat he was given his near-death experience.

Remy threw out a hook to the pot buoy, just as Bish announced that this was the last pot of the season. The overwhelming sense of relief that filled every crew member was not something that could be measured or quantified. Weeks of bone-chilling cold, hunger, and tiredness were coming to a sweet end. Bish announced that according to his calculations, they were near their quota, and the crew could do with the last pot of crab as they saw fit. With the crane pulling the pot out of the water, Nick and Coach kept it at the rail, while Schmidt opened it, dumping its contents back into the ocean and freeing the crab. It was an unwritten rule that if you had a bountiful trip, you had to pay homage to the ocean. The superstitions of fisherman never had to make sense, but they had to be followed. After securing the final pot to the stack on the deck, the crew returned inside for the ride home back to Dutch Harbor.

…

The jobs in port were always far less strenuous than the ones out at sea. It seemed quite boring to watch a bunch of men weigh out the holding tanks at the processing plant, but it was still a job that needed to be done. After the monotony of load after load of crab being removed was done, Nick knew he had to have a brief chat with Bish.

"Yo Bish, you got a minute?"

"Sure Miller. What's up?"

Nick took a couple of deep breaths. Just get it out there man.

"I'm quitting. This was my last trip out."

Bish's eyes grew wide and a surprised look came across his face. "You know I have to ask why."

Nick knew exactly why. It was the fear he saw in Paul's eyes right before he jumped into the sea to save him. "It's just…it's just too damn dangerous, and my family really doesn't need the money anymore."

"Well, I can respect that Miller. You are damn good crabber. It will be hard to replace you, but I will replace you," Bish finished his sentence with a small laugh. Nick joined him. A man leaving a crab boat was not uncommon, it was amazing that Bish had kept this crew intact for as long as he did. Getting up to shake Nick's hand, Bish continued. "There will always be room on my boat for you if you ever change your mind Miller."

After collecting his final paycheck, Nick walked to his apartment, longing for a nice hot shower and a meal.

…

Walking into Clyde's for what would be his last time, he immediately looked for his favorite bartender, who spotted him straight away and shot him a smile. The smile felt bittersweet to him, as he wouldn't get to enjoy it anymore. After leaving his apartment, Nick went to the airline in town, which was a guy named Terry, and booked his flight out of Dutch the next morning. He came to Clyde's determined to enjoy his last night in town.

Most of the boat's crews were well on their way to celebrating the end of the season, and the crew of Ferguson's Forty was no different. Traditionally Bish would by the rounds on a night like this, but Paul had continued his thanks and was getting everyone hammered on his dime. Bish took the opportunity to "interview" replacements for Nick. All of the unemployed fisherman could always be found at Clyde's.

Joining Schmidt, Coach, and Paul at the bar, the men wished Nick the best on his new life outside of Dutch Harbor, and raised a glass in toast. Jess came over to the men and filled them up with another round.

"Sounds like you've had an exciting trip out there Miller," Jess beamed. Word always traveled fast around the fleet, whether it was someone leaving, or the tale of how Nick saved Paul. "I can't believe you saved someone's life! That's amazing."

"I just did what I hope anyone would do for me," Nick said sheepishly.

"Shut up with your modesty and drink with me," Jess forcefully said as she filled to shot glasses.

"I feel like we've run enough of a tab on Paul for one night, and-"

"This one's on me dummy," Jess interrupted, smiling in that way that made Nick lose his voice. Nick grabbed the shot glass and downed the whiskey, feeling its familiar burn as it went down. Opening his eyes again, Jess gave him a wink before walking away to serve the crowded bar.

Several hours had passed, and Nick had succeeded in getting plastered. He couldn't remember if that was the plan or not, but it was where he had arrived. The crowd had somewhat thinned out, but there were still plenty of fisherman like himself blowing off steam. Jess came back to check on Nick when he decided that he had the right amount of truth serum to let his guard down.

"You need anything right now Nick?"

"Yessssh…I need to tell you something," Nick said, trying to sound soberish over the deafening sound of the bar. "I need to tell you why I haven't decided to leave before now." Jess' face was etched with curiosity, as she had only seen Nick in this state a handful of times. He always seemed so vulnerable.

"You," he simply stated. The curiosity changed to shock. "You are why I haven't left. I know you are with Russ, but I just lived in a fantasy world where maybe a girl like you could somehow be happy with a guy like me. The problem is, after I saw Paul almost die, I realized I can't keep living that fantasy. Life is too damn short, and even though my time in here is the best part about this place, I have to live a real life. Even though I have no plan, I have to get out of here so I don't end up a grumpy old fisherman full of regret. Or worse, a dead fisherman."

Nick slightly cursed his countless bowls of loudmouth soup he consumed to get him to this state. He didn't visualize himself spilling his feelings to Jess, but since it was out there, he decided to roll with it.

"You're a great gal Jess. You deserve whatever it takes to make you happy. Thanks for everything." Finishing his beer with a flourish, Nick gave the utterly surprised Jess a slight nod and walked out of Clyde's for good.

…

Nursing one killer hangover, Nick carried his bag up to Terry who was doing some final preparations to the plane. The prop plane was about as cosmopolitan as the rest of Dutch Harbor, but he knew that Terry took excellent care of it.

"Morning Nick," Terry greeted.

"Hmmmm," was all Nick could muster in response.

"Feel free to hop in the back there, we should be all set to go in a few minutes. The other passenger is already here and ready to go."

Other passenger, Nick questioned to himself.

Opening the side door, Nick realized that there was an instant cure for hangovers. It came in the form of dark brown hair framing a beautiful face.

"Well, good morning sailor," Jess cockily said. "Not real surprising you were almost late given your condition last night."

Thinking back to his drunken confession last night made Nick almost turn around and run back to Bish and ask for his old job back. He had a long propeller-powered trip to own up to what he had confessed.

"Take a seat kid, I don't bite."

Taking the seat next to her, Nick closed the door and put his head in his hands. "Jess, I'm sorry about what I said and-"

"Why are you sorry...did you not mean it?" she inquired. Nick remained silent, but looked at Jess. Seeing the honest questioning look forced him to respond quietly, "No, I meant it."

"Okay, fair enough. Our talk made me question a lot of things about myself, made me realize that I wasn't being totally honest with myself either. So I decided I needed to get out of here too."

There was no hangover in the world that could stop the smile on Nick's face.

"Hey now, don't go flattering yourself there mister," she teased. "Don't go thinking this is all about you and what you said. There are plenty of reasons to hate living here."

"Like what?"

"Well, how about the time in winter when the sun doesn't shine…at all! You think that is natural for anyone? Even for an ol' grumpus like yourself?" At her accusation, the pair let out small laughs, hers a laugh that filled Nick with life. He finally realized that he had a plan for his life.

Do whatever it takes to keep Jessica Day in it.


End file.
